


whatever you say

by damthosefandoms



Series: Batfam PJO AU [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Gets better after the first chapter bc I really TRIED after the first chapter, I love the idea of these two bonding, also this was gonna be a one shot and now it’s not, alternate universe — crossover, and half the ideas I keep coming up with for my pjo au and if I can’t write anything ELSE, and i guess damian too, demigod!jason au, i just love it, it was fun anyway, part of my pjo batfam au!, really jason just refers to other people a lot, so I’m gonna write This, they have so much in common, we need more fics of jason being a good big brother to damian, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-11-22 23:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damthosefandoms/pseuds/damthosefandoms
Summary: sometimes you just have to go pick up your little brother from summer camp after his mom kidnaps him and drops him off there without warning for a week. sometimes he doesn’t want to leave. sometimes you wish you didn’t have to leave either. sometimes you don't want to go home because you're already there.(edit: this has a more chapters than i thought it would and is no longer a one-shot, so that summary only applies to the first chapter whoops. also my writing greatly improves after chapter 1 yay)





	1. whatever you say

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so I didn’t finish the last fic in this series and I probably never will tbh but here I am writing a new one like a year later and I have no explanation so I won’t even try. anyway I wrote this like two months ago and just decided to post it now because? idk? I felt like it? it’s cute and I need more jason & damian brotherly bonding in my life. hopefully the quality of writing is better because I tried a little harder with it.
> 
> For the record, Damian being a demigod was never originally part of this au, but I’ve had the idea about as long as I’ve had the one with Jason, and it’s always been like an au of the au. if that makes sense. but now it’s canon because it’s my au and I said so. also I’ve just really been into pjo lately cause i just saw the tlt musical so posting a pjo-related fic is probably a good idea. hope you all like it and sorry it’s short lmao I tried
> 
> also hey thanks destiny for editing this i love you best friend

Jason found him in the same place he always went to when things got bad. Hiding from the rest of the world in the stables, brushing the pegasi. Jason had to stop himself from laughing when he recognized his youngest brother’s brooding expression; he was, without a doubt, Bruce Wayne’s child.

The boy’s mother was a completely different problem.

“If you’re here to patronize me for mutilating the training dummies in the arena, it’s not going to work out for you, Jackson. I’m not sorry.”  
“I don’t know what’s more insulting here, kid: the fact that you can’t tell me apart from my brother, or the fact that you didn’t even notice it was _me_ who walked in. B didn’t train you as well as we all thought, huh?”

Damian whipped around so fast that Jason figured the kid could give a speedster a run for their money (pun not intended). 

“You? What are you doing here, Todd?” Damian demanded, though with less hatred in his voice than usual. Camp must’ve turned him softer, somehow. It was…strange. 

Jason shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing. Actually, that’s  _ exactly _ why I’m here. Found out from B the other day that some lady who definitely wasn’t your bitch mother showed up on patrol last week, called you her kid, snapped her fingers, and  _ poof,  _ the two of you were gone. Sounded fishy to me, so I did some digging, and the trail led me here. You wanna tell me the truth?” 

Damian didn’t meet his eyes. “There’s nothing to tell, Todd. I don’t care what anyone here says. That…whatever she is…she’s not my mother. I don’t want to talk about it. Now, tell me, what are you doing here?”

Damian’s hands balled into fists. Fortunately, Jason knew the kid well enough to know that telling him to calm down would be unwise. He’d probably been hearing that all week. Of course Damian’s temper would get to him here. He didn’t know anyone, and the people in charge of him weren’t that much older than he was. They didn’t know how Damian dealt with things. They wouldn’t understand how the kid could hold his own so well in a swordfight when he was supposedly just the son of a billionaire who happened to get dumped by his mom at a summer camp in the middle of February with very little explanation as to why. By all means, Damian should have just been some entitled rich brat.

Unfortunately, Jason knew better. He also knew exactly who Damian’s  _ real _ mother was. He’d actually tracked Talia down the night after Damian disappeared, after recognizing the woman who took him away when Bruce showed him the security footage of their encounter. He’d demanded Talia tell him the truth.

About fourteen years ago, Talia had made a deal with the goddess of revenge. The details were foggy, but in the end, Damian was born and Talia raised him as her son—and he was her son, biologically, because the gods may not have DNA but they can transform into anything they want, and well. That includes matching the image of any mortal. 

Jason  _ really _ didn’t want to think about it. The point was that Bruce Wayne was (and still is) an idiot, and Damian was here now. That's what mattered. 

But Jason wasn’t dumb. He knew Camp Half-Blood pretty well, given his lengthy tenure. The campers here wouldn’t trust someone like Damian. The last person to walk into this camp already fully trained in sword fighting was Jason Grace, and that was a fluke, thanks to Hera. The son of Jupiter’s arrival was followed quickly by multiple killer quests, and then Mother Earth tried to kill everyone in her Poison Ivy-like bitch fit. 

So it made sense that the arrival of Damian put everyone on edge.

But Damian wasn’t like Jason Grace. He wasn’t a Roman—clearly — but still his abilities in all forms of fighting were just too prevalent to play off as, “I did martial arts as a kid.” Damian was trained  _ too _ well. And his attitude was, quite frankly, horrendous, which put off the campers even more. 

Damian was the child of a goddess who didn’t have many kids, but when she  _ did _ , they were usually the type you’d have trouble trusting. He was the exact type of demigod that would come to camp and immediately be the center of everyone’s rumors. It didn’t help that his godly parent had literally  _ dropped him off _ . The only time this kind of thing ever really happened was when that demigod was fated to be part of some big prophecy.

But Rachel hadn’t given a new prophecy yet.

Which meant that, until that day inevitably came, Damian would’ve been ignored, avoided, and—worst of all—alone.

_ And Jason certainly knew how it felt to be alone. _

“Well, Todd?”  
“Well what?” 

Damian glared at him. “Why are you here? I assume it wasn’t father who sent you to come get me.”

“Why not? He could’ve asked me to—”  
“No. Father would ask the Clown to come get me before he’d ask you.”  
“Aw, come on, why’d you have to bring _him_ into it? This is supposed to be a _safe space._”  
“_Will you just tell me the truth_?”  
“I did. I told you I’m here to find out why you’re here. Never _said_ I was going to take you home…though I am a little shocked that you seem so upset at the idea.”  
“The idea of what, exactly?”  
“Going home. You don’t want to leave?”  
“No, I—wait. Don’t twist my words, Todd! How did you get through the border? Did you bribe someone? Threaten them with bodily harm? How’d you get past the dragon?”

Jason frowned. He’d known the truth would have to come out eventually. 

_ That didn’t mean he wanted to admit it. _

“I’m a camper too, demon spawn. Well, guess I can’t use that one anymore, since you aren’t really the  _ spawn _ , but…anyway. I digress. You mentioned Percy before? What made you think that I was him? You’re usually spot-on when it comes to knowing who walks up behind you. Guess being away from Gotham for so long got you a little out of practice, Boy Wonder.”

Damian tightened his grip on the brush and went back to grooming the pegasi. “The horses—the pegasi, they always have a certain reaction when Jackson walks in. He told me he can understand them, but—”

Jason walked over to the horse Damian was brushing. “According to the myths, Poseidon created horses from seafoam, or something like that. Children of Poseidon can understand all types of horses because of that, including pegasi.”

He raised his hand to pet it. Jason figured it’d be better to get these things out of the way sooner rather than later. Some secrets just don’t stay secrets. And if there was one thing Jason knew, it was that someone was bound to find out eventually. It was always better off that way regardless, because trust is the most important thing in the world. 

Especially in their family.

_ You just have to rip off the bandaid. _

“I can understand them, too.”

Damian didn’t react right away. He got that faraway look on his face—the same exact one Bruce made when he was thinking about something Jason had said. Jason didn’t like that comparison. Usually, that look led to some kind of fight between the two of them, and some sort of accident that meant Jason would either have to leave Gotham for a while to avoid the cops or deal with being locked up in Arkham.

After too many minutes of silence that made Jason extremely uncomfortable and gave him just enough time to start regretting all of his life decisions up to this point, Damian spoke again. “So... the story Richard told me about your past?”

“It’s…not exactly 100% accurate. I did grow up in Crime Alley, but Bruce doesn’t actually know where I was from age ten to twelve, and I, uh, kind of prefer it that way. Before I—when I was Robin, I got him to let me go to camp for a month each summer by claiming it was this camp for troubled kids I’d found out about from the school psychologist at Gotham Academy. I told him it would help me with my ADHD and Dyslexia.” Jason laughed at the memory. It was one of the good ones.

_ Not that there were ever many of those. _

“I might’ve used the Mist to convince him on that one. And a few other times. It never worked on Alfie, but sometimes B fell for it. It was fun.” Jason sighed. 

He could tell Damian was listening, but the kid wouldn’t respond. Jason didn’t blame him. He was stuck in a new place, learning all these new and impossible things about his second-least favorite brother—(Tim being first, though Jason was pretty sure the only reason he was higher than Tim was because the two of them had only ever actually interacted a few times)—who just happened to be the only one to manage to find him. And Jason really was planning on taking Damian home at first, but for some reason, it seemed like…

“You don’t want to go yet, do you?” Jason took the resulting silence as a yes. “Look, Damian, I get it. You might feel alone here, but for once in your life, you feel like you finally fit in somewhere. I…I've been in your shoes.”

_ No one trusted him, either, when he was claimed. And why should they have? Because a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Zeus appearing at the same time, together, when neither should’ve been born? Zeus and Poseidon both broke the pact, within a few years of each other, and those children ended up together. The most powerful children to ever exist in decades, who might’ve even been stronger than those who came before them, and they arrived at camp together. After the Great Prophecy was spoken. It’s no wonder Thalia died. Jason probably killed her. And he’d probably have destroyed Olympus, too, if he’d lived long enough to see his sixteenth birthday. The whole thing was just a bad sign. _

He took a step back, ignoring the memories racing through his head. “I’m gonna go home, kid. I  _ was _ going to bring you home, maybe try to win back a little of B’s trust or…whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’ll tell Bruce and everyone you’re safe, make up some story. But,” Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a small baggie of gold drachmas, “if you ever need anything? Don’t call my cell phone.”

Jason tossed his brother the baggie and turned for the door. Right before he could walk out, though, he heard footsteps, then arms wrapped around him—

“If you tell  _ anyone _ about this, Todd, I swear I’ll kill you, Father’s rules be damned.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

Damian didn’t want to leave camp. Jason didn’t blame him. Because despite everything, it still felt safe. It still felt like a place you could go and no one would judge you, even if they did, because that’s just what this place was. A place for misfits. For kids who didn’t fit in anywhere else. For kids who had nowhere else to go.

Damian didn’t want to go home, because he was already there.

_ Because no matter what happened, Camp Half-Blood would always be home. _


	2. better than anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> damian and jason train in the batcave. and jason has more than one magic sword?? wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read the new 52 rhato #1 and found out jason has magic monster killing-swords and i freaked out. so many demigod quest vibes. i've only read the first two volumes, so if he doesn't have them anymore, don't @ me. also, i decided if in canon apollo can have a biological child with a man (power to the gays!!!) damian can be a demigod and still have talia and bruce as his parents. talia drugged bruce anyway and i'm sure there are bigger parental issues in dc canon than in this au. also, this chapter takes place after damian spills the demigod secret to bruce. i think only bruce, alfred, and dick know in the batfam, and none of them know that jason knows—and only damian (and possibly alfred? but that's because he's ALFRED) knows about jason. so yeah. that's the only important stuff i guess. also there's a reference to the fic i wrote for this au that i never finished. whoops. dunno if there will be more of this! this one came out of nowhere! yay! have fun with this!

“You slash too much, Todd.”

Jason glances at his younger brother. They’re in the Batcave, alone, which is a rarity. But today, Tim’s hanging out with Conner, Dick’s working in Blüdhaven, Bruce is off-world, and Stephanie went to visit Cass in Hong Kong. Alfred and Duke are technically home, but Duke’s out visiting a friend and Alfred is busy upstairs.

So the two of them decided to train, because what the hell. Even if Alfred comes down here, he won’t ask Jason any questions. Jason’s pretty sure Alfred caught on to his little secret years ago.

Because he and Damian aren’t  _ training _ -training. 

You know.

It’s not  _ Bat _ -training.

“What do you mean?”

“You slash too much. You should stab more when you fight with a sword. And—hey!”

Jason rolls his eyes, and Damian’s water bottle spills all over the floor. Damian glares at him. “What was  _ that _ for?”

“I fight just  _ fine _ . I was taught by the best, remember?” 

Damian scoffs and grabs a towel to clean up the water. 

“I’m assuming you don’t mean Father.”

Jason waves his hand, and the water on the floor flies up and splashes into Damian’s face. He’s about to yell, so Jason taps Damian’s shoulder, and the kid is dry before he can even start to complain.

“No. I don’t. But I’m not talking about Camp, either.”

Damian raises an eyebrow. “You don’t mean… my—?”

“Talia taught me a bit, sure. And she got me other teachers way back when. But none of them were the  _ best _ .” Jason twirls his sword around. “I’m talking about when she dumped me with the All-Caste.”

Damian drops the towel.

“ _ What? _ Mother took you to  _ Ducra?  _ I didn’t know—Mother wouldn’t even let  _ me _ train with her!” 

“Are you jealous?”

“ _ Of course I am!  _ The All-Caste are only the most elite group of—” 

Jason winces. “Were.”

“…What?”

“They’re gone. Dead. All of them. They got wiped out a while back. I’m the only one left.”

“That’s impossible! They’re the best in the world!” Damian cries. Clearly he doesn’t understand the whole “totally dead” thing. 

Which makes sense.

They both kind of prove the entire concept ineffective.

“Yeah, well.” Jason shrugs. Time for a new topic. He holds out his sword towards his brother. “Water break’s over. Let’s go another round?”

Damian doesn’t respond. He’s staring at the ground. He’s so much like Bruce, it’s ridiculous. They even make the same thinking face.

“Damian?”

“Do you have the All-Blades?”

Jason tilts his head. “You know about those? I didn’t think  _ Bruce  _ even knew about those.”

“Of  _ course _ I know, Todd. Mother made sure I know everything my Grandfather does. It was—”

“Part of your training to lead the League of Assassins, blah blah blah, I know.” He pauses. “I have  _ one _ . The other got destroyed.”

Damian’s eyes light up. The kid  _ really  _ likes swords. And animals. That’s pretty much all Jason knows about him.

That and one other thing. But it’s not important right now.

“You _dual-wielded_ _All-Blades? _And you never _told _me_?”_

“I’ve also tried to kill you a thousand times. I kinda figured we had other stuff to talk about. And don’t give me that look, Damian, I know what you’re thinking. I’m not teaching you how to use an All-Blade, so don’t even bother.”

Damian suddenly gets a very suspicious-looking smile on his face, and Jason knows he’s screwed himself over somehow.

Bruce is going to kill him if he finds out about this.

“But you _did _tell me that you’re a _demigod_. And I’ve seen you at _camp_.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I know your secret, Todd. Your dirty little half-godly secret. And Father knows  _ my  _ dirty little half-godly secret, and he  _ trusts _ me, so he’ll  _ believe _ me.” 

“No. Damian,  _ no. _ I will not be blackmailed by a small child.”

“Oh, yes, you will be.”

“_No_. _Absolutely_ _not_. I can’t show you the sword anyway. It only appears in front of _pure evil_, or whatever that’s supposed to mean. Even if I _wanted _to show you it, I couldn’t.”

“Nonsense. It’ll work. Take it out.”

“No.”

“I’m an al Ghul, aren’t I? We are inherently evil, or whatever it is you people like to say. You all even call me a demon.”

“Are you an al Ghul, though? I think your mother is technically Nemesis, and she’s a goddess, so—”

“Yes, yes, I know. But the goddess told me when she dropped me at camp that I still have my mother’s blood. The whole point of  _ me  _ was to perfect the al Ghul bloodline using Father’s DNA, after all, and I don’t know why that  _ woman _ got involved, but—”

Even though they’re deep underground, both have their attention drawn away from the conversation by the sudden sound of thunder booming outside.

Jason rolls his eyes. Damian sighs. “They really are dramatic, aren’t they?”

Jason just shrugs. “They’re Greek. They invented theater. Anyway, your  _ family _ might be pure evil, but we both know full well that you aren’t,  _ Robin _ . Maybe—and I  _ mean _ maybe—if we ever get the chance, I’ll show you the sword.” 

“You promise?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Swear it on the Styx.”

“What? How’d you—who taught you about that?”

“Chase. She’s quite smart, isn’t she? And  _ quite  _ the detective. I’m starting to suspect she might know about all of this.” Damian gestures to the cave around them.

“Yeah. She is. And I don’t know  _ what _ she knows, but I trust her. So just… don’t bring it up.”

Damian shrugs. He picks up the empty water bottle and tosses it into the recycle bin they keep down here. He grabs his new katana and stands up.

“Are you going to swear it or not?”

“I’m not an idiot, Damian. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Especially not ones that’ll doom my soul for eternity the second I inevitably fuck up.”

“Oh, like promising not to run off and get murdered by a clown?”

“I really don’t think you should be talking. I’m scared Thanatos is gonna start getting notifications on his iPad that we got off free.”

“Whatever. He can try all he wants. I didn’t go to the Underworld  _ last _ time. I won’t go next time either.”

Jason swings his sword around. He’s still getting used to it. It’s the one Tyson made for him after they finally met. It’s shaped almost exactly like Ri—his old sword from before he died, but as you get closer to the core of the blade, the metal changes color. It’s infused with mostly celestial bronze, but had all kinds of other metals as well—stygian iron, imperial gold, even a handful of normal human metals just in case the Red Hood needs to use it.

When Tyson offered to make it, he’d seemed so excited that Jason had to purposely leave out the fact that he already _ had  _ a new magical sword.

He and Damian—who’s currently using a special katana made of the same metals as Jason’s, also thanks to Tyson, which otherwise is an exact replica of his favorite sword he’d had his whole life—get into fighting stances, and they start swinging as soon as Jason waves his hand. 

“Y’know, I asked Chiron once, way back before I was even Robin, where we go when we die. He gave me a funny look, ‘cause the obvious answer to  _ him _ is the underworld, right?” Jason says. He  _ always  _ talks while training like this. For some reason, it always seems to calm any nerves he might have. 

(He thinks maybe it’s a side effect of being Robin. Working with Batman was like working with a brick wall. Maybe not physically speaking, because brick walls don’t normally move, but when it came to socialization or emotions, Bruce was a wreck. The Bat didn’t talk. Robin  _ did _ . That was the  _ point _ , wasn’t it? To be just like Dick. Like he says, it’s part of his  _ charm _ .)

Damian blocks Jason’s strike, and motions for him to keep going. 

It  _ is  _ nice to listen. Sometimes. Jason is more interesting than most of the people Damian trains with, no matter if the training is at Camp or here in Gotham.

“So that’s what he tells me. And I immediately call him on that, ‘cause it’s bullshit, right? I look Chiron in the eyes and I go, ‘No, that’s bullshit.’ Mr. D’s in the room and he tells me to watch my language and I tell him to go shove a diet coke up his ass. He glares at me, but he doesn’t do shit about it, cause he’s used to it from me. I think now he must’ve known I was gonna die and felt bad for me or somethin’, ‘cause I don’t think even his own kids ever got away with telling him that kinda stuff, but whatever. Back then I guessed he felt bad that my dad—y'know, Willis, who isn’t really my dad, and isn’t that just a big fucking mess, because my mom then wasn’t my  _ real _ mom either—was an alcoholic and used to beat me and he’s the god of wine, so it’s his fault, kinda, and—”

“Is there a point to this, Todd?”  
“I’m gettin’ there!”

Jason knocks Damian backwards, and saves himself enough time to remember his original point.

“Anyway. So I look back at Chiron and I’m like, ‘I know where _we_ go when _we_ die, but is there like, other underworlds? Like, my dad, he was Catholic. He died in prison a few years ago. He went to Hell, right? ‘Cause he believed in it. On some level. Least, he kept tellin’ me I was gonna go there. So is he in Hell? Is there even a real Hell? Or is it just still the Fields of Punishment?’ and Chiron tells me that we ‘shan’t deal with the metaphysical’ but I told him that ‘shan’t’ isn’t a word and maybe I _want _to deal with the metaphysical.”  
“You didn’t…”

“I look at Mr. D, ‘cause he’s a god and he’s  _ gotta _ know, y’know, and I say, ‘Is Jesus real?’ and of course he doesn’t answer and they both glare at me like they’re fuckin’ Batman or somethin’, and then I say, ‘He’s gotta be, cause if you can’t use your powers anymore ‘cause of Zeus and Jesus ain’t really out there turnin’ water into wine, who’s makin’ the church booze?’ and I think I got kicked out of the Big House after that.”

“ _ Church booze?  _ You’re an idiot, Todd.”

“Oh, I know! But it doesn’t end there.”

“Oh no.”

Jason waves his hand and the faucet on the sink in the med bay turns on. The water makes its way across the batcave and over to them, wrapping itself around Damian’s hands so he can’t move while Jason takes a moment to think about what happened next.

“So I go back the next day, because I’ve only been at camp for like a month and a half but they already kinda know that I do whatever the fuck I want, and their schedules can die via crowbar for all I care, and because I keep claiming I’m goin’ crazy and need therapy after Thalia’s death, and my shitty life and all, and  _ technically _ we’re  _ supposed _ to go to Mr. D for therapy—at least back then we did ‘cause he’s the god of insanity or something and he’s supposed to help with craziness and part of his punishment was to actually legit  _ help _ us, but he’s a bigger dick than Dick so it doesn’t help and I think I’m the only idiot who actually agreed to it, and I only did because it got me out of camp activities—”

“Focus, you moron. You’re rambling again.”

“Shut up. So anyway, it’s the next day and I  _ need _ to get this shit out of Chiron. It’s deeper than he thinks, ‘cause I’m not asking for no reason. I kept havin’ dreams at that point that my mom was gonna OD soon. And that mixed with the fact that I kept seein’ Thalia’s tree all day meant death was on my mind. And I kept hearin’ rumors about the Great Prophecy and how it’s supposed to mean that I wasn’t… gonna make it past…” Jason trails off. Damian stops his sword mid-swing. Jason’s eyes are starting to flash green again. Usually, that means the Pit’s influencing his thoughts, and Damian knows better than anyone how that works. He doesn’t want to risk it. He knows Jason’s been doing well lately. Raised weapons will only make it worse.

“I never told anyone this, but the night before I first asked, I had this dream. Not a normal nightmare, because I was used to those, but this was different. You know about demigod dreams, right? How they’re different than normal ones?”

Damian puts away his sword. Jason does the same It’s obvious they’re done with sparring for the day. “Yes. I’ve… had a few. We see things normal people don’t in our dreams. Sometimes past events. Sometimes current ones… and in rare circumstances, they’re prophetic.”

Jason nods.

“This was the first time I’d ever had one of those. Up until that night, I usually  _ never  _ remembered my dreams, unless they were really bad nightmares, but this was  _ different. _ The only person I know of who gets dreams—demigod dreams—this bad is Percy Jackson, and he’s, y’know, been the Chosen One a bajillion times. For him, it makes  _ sense _ . He’s always off doing quests and shit. I went on maybe one or two  _ real  _ quests the entire time I was at camp, and one of them was only ‘cause my dad needed me to help him talk to the new king of Atlantis because he’s bad with humans, and you know, I was Robin at the time, and the new King was—”

“Aquaman. Might as well have been a  _ Robin _ thing, not a  _ demigod _ thing. I get it.”

“Yeah.”

“So, your dream?”

“Right. I… it’s weird how well I still remember it. It went something like this...”

* * *

_ Jason opens his eyes. He has no clue where he is. All he can see is darkness, everywhere. He tries to talk, to call out and see if anyone is there, but his voice doesn’t work. He turns around, and suddenly there are three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs.  _

_ They stare at him. He stares back.  _

_ The old lady in the middle is holding a basket of blood-red yarn. The other two seem to be knitting a pair of socks, but the basket is almost empty. They’ll run out before they can finish. _

_ All three look him right in the eyes. Their mouths don’t move, but he can hear their voices in his head. _

_ “You need not worry about prophecies, boy. You have your own destiny to fulfill. Your future may look bright, but even the strongest flame burns out.” _

_ The woman in the middle cuts the string. _

_Jason shudders_._ He can hear the snipping sound ringing in his ears. Then it turns to laughter. Psychotic, terrifying, _**_horrible_** _laughter._

_ The short bit of red yarn left in the basket starts to turn green. He doesn’t know why, but the color bothers him. He feels like he’s drowning, suddenly. He can’t explain it. Why is he drowning? He’s a son of Poseidon. He can’t drown. This is wrong. All wrong. _

_ “Fate demands it be this way. Fate is  _ ** _never_ ** _ wrong. Fate  _ ** _cannot_ ** _ be changed. But somehow, with help from a force from beyond our knowledge and our power, you will defy even  _ ** _Fate_ ** _ . Count your blessings, Jason Peter Todd. Say your goodbyes. Tell the people you care about that you love them. Life is short. Time is running out, boy, and every gift you receive comes with a curse. Do  _ ** _not_ ** _ forget that.” _

_The old ladies fade to dust. All Jason can see is green. All he can hear is the sound of laughter. He’s terrified. He can’t breathe. His lungs hurt. His head hurts. Everything _**_hurts_**_._ _He hears ticking, like a bomb about to go off. Why is he here? Why is he alone? Why did he trust her? Why didn’t he listen? Where is Br—_

Ten-year-old Jason Todd wakes up after his first night alone in Cabin Three screaming his lungs out, psychotic laughter ringing in his ears.

<strike> Five years later, Robin closes his eyes, and prays to his father to save him. He doesn’t know if he wants Bruce or his actual father. The timer hits 00:00, and Jason doesn’t have time left to care. </strike>

* * *

Damian is silent. 

Jason is too. And he hates silence, so he breaks it.

“Anyway, Chiron told me that it’s complicated. Said if I went and searched the Fields of Punishment, I might find my dad there, screaming and burning and thinking he’s in the Christian version of Hell, getting tortured by Satan himself ‘cause that’s what he believed in, technically, so as far as he’s concerned, that’s where he is. He never really explained it to me. I don’t think even  _ he _ knows where everyone goes. I doubt  _ anyone _ does. He said I’d go to the Greek Underworld if I ever died. ‘Cause that’s what I  _ know _ , that’s what I believe in, that’s my fate or whatever, because all Greek demigods go to the Greek Underworld. I asked him what happens to people who die without knowing they’re Greek demigods. He told me not to worry about it. They go where they go. I asked him if it's actually just one place. He says, ‘Unless you plan on dying soon, which I dearly hope is  _ not _ the case, it isn’t time to be asking questions like these.’ And I’ve always wondered if he knew I was gonna die, or what, ‘cause it’s Chiron and he always knows these things. Horse-Man reminds me entirely too much of Alfred, if you ask me.”

Jason stares into the space in front of him.

“All I know is, I spent six months underground, and I know what the  _ actual  _ Underworld looks like;  _ that  _ wasn’t it.”

Damian doesn’t meet his brother’s eyes.

“I get it, Todd. Better than anyone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know you do. Better than anyone.”

Jason taps the end of the hilt of his sword. It shrinks down into the shape of a swiss army knife; Tyson really came through for him when making it. He’s been missing having a magic item. Percy got his old sword, and making the celestial bronze bullets for his guns was getting annoying. He shoves it into his pocket.

(Damian does the same, but his sword shrinks down into the shape of a batarang. Jason told Tyson that Damian was a Batman fan, and he had found a batarang once on the streets of Gotham and carried it around for good luck. Not fully a lie, because Jason knows that Damian’s got one on his person at all times for safety reasons, despite Bruce’s pleas. Damian honestly appreciated it.)

Jason takes out his phone, and checks the time. It’s 8:34.

“It’s getting late. You wanna patrol together? I know Bruce doesn’t like it when you go out alone, and I might not be him or Dick, but—”

“You aren’t Drake. That’s enough for me. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for editing this desty i love you!!! go read all of @sohotthateveryonedied's fics because she's two billion times better at writing than i am!!! yay!!!
> 
> If you guys get confused on when everything takes place—and I have too, so it’s alright—I made a timeline for the AU, and there’s gonna be a google doc linked at the end of each fic (right here in the End Notes) from now on that’ll specify exactly when each fic takes place, along with some other details I might not have included in the fics, and also it shows when the PJO books happen relative to the AU. It’s very helpful, so feel free to check it out! I’ll be adding stuff from time to time/after I post new fics, so yeah. It’s helpful.
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RIksZZsTP2Xt0YaMG8F0hlMXOi7SMLNpx2O8Onl2QnY/edit?usp=sharing


	3. eye for an eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> damian, in typical nemesis-kid fashion, almost loses an eye. also he wants to go home to gotham because he can't be robin at camp so it's BORING. and jason is a terrible brother until he's a cool brother. and why do these batkids have so many brothers anyway?? it's ridiculous. i'm so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe this is rushed but it's also so many words i tried so HARD guys i NEVER write this much. i'm trying so hard. also this au is so fun to write.
> 
> uh. what can i say about this hmm. well ok. i remembered ethan from the pjo books lost an eye and i thought "hey what if damian lost an eye too" but then i realized that'd be too mean so i didn't do that but he almost does!!! and it gave me an excuse to use percy in a fic.
> 
> i think this lowkey relates back to a much better fic i wrote where damian sees jason while he's still brain-dead (pre lazarus pit, post ressurection) so y'all should read that one too ;)
> 
> i could talk more but i'm too lazy to go on so anyway i love percy jackson more than anything that's all tHANKS

It’s Damian’s fifth week at Camp Half-Blood. It’s going well, except for  _ everything _ . He has been here since June 5th. It’s July 10th. He’s not allowed to leave. He hasn’t spoken to anyone in Gotham since the centaur allowed him to call his father on his  _ second _ week, to explain where he is now and what has happened to him since his… since the so-called-Goddess of Revenge abandoned him here after a bunch of ridiculous claims.

The idea that anyone but Talia al Ghul and Bruce Wayne could be his parent is genetically impossible, and that’s that.

(Maybe it’s  _ not _ impossible. Damian’s seen weirder.  _ Experienced _ weirder. He died and was resurrected, so he already  _ is _ the impossible; but this is different, isn’t it?)

And still, Damian’s lying. He has seen  _ one _ person he knows since he got here—whether not Damian himself considers them family is against the point. He’ll never admit it out loud, but for once in his life Damian was happy to see Todd’s stupid face when he showed up a week after this whole mess started.

The very same stupid face that, years ago, Damian watched his mother push off a cliff. 

At the time, Damian assumed that the boy who’d been tossed into the Pit had died again. He’d wondered for so long why his mother did it—why risk everything to throw the boy into the Pit, if she was just going to kill him immediately after? And then he met his father, and he understood why his mother had done it. Why she risked her own life, their connection to the League, Damian’s role as Heir—

But that’s behind him, now.

Now he just wonders if his mother knew that Todd would survive. He wonders if she knew what Todd was, who his  _ real _ parents are. His real  _ father _ , at least. Damian knows Mother is fully aware of the  _ Goddess _ , but does she know there are other demigods out there? Does Mother even know about Camp? Does she know he’s here?

(That’s what the Goddess will always be to Damian.  _ Never _ his  _ mother _ . He’s still got Talia al Ghul’s blood running through his veins—and Bruce Wayne’s. He’s got his father’s blood. Father is a good man. Damian  can be is good, too. That’s  _ all _ that matters.)

Damian doesn’t want to think about it.

Anyway, Camp Half-Blood would be  _ amazing _ if it weren’t for the fact that Damian has no friends here. Drake would argue that he doesn’t have friends at home either. Drake is a dirty liar. Damian can name at least two people he knows for  _ sure _ are his friends, and if Wilkes or Kent  _ were _ here, he’d be having a much better time. At least he wouldn't have to hide as much of himself if they were here. He could be having fun.

As it is, the only person he knows here is Jason Todd. Damian’s always suspected that he’s cursed. Now he’s sure.

It’s not as bad as Damian makes it out to be. Todd comes and goes like he does at home in Gotham, so Damian’s not that concerned when he’s not around for a while. He’s been back once or twice since the first week, and rarely even gives Damian a second look; he’s always hanging around with all the cabin counselors, the so-called “War Heroes” who Damian barely knows outside of the activities they teach. 

Damian’s not jealous. He’s  _ not _ . He doesn’t  _ get _ jealous. He’s not jealous when Richard spends time with Drake instead of him. He’s not jealous when Father asks one of his (not) siblings to patrol with him while Damian is benched, and he’s  _ definitely _ not jealous that everyone else gets to talk to Todd while Damian is left alone, with only strangers to talk to.

Okay, fine. Damian might be a little lonely. There’s no one else in his cabin. That’s fine with him, because he really doesn’t need anymore not-siblings, and because he’s hiding his Robin stuff in the floorboards underneath his bed. The fewer people around, the less likely anyone is to snoop. He can’t let anyone find out who he is, but he doesn’t want to have Todd bring the suit back home; Damian doesn’t have anything else here to tie him to his father. He doesn’t want to lose that connection.

The first day he’s at camp, he learns the basics. He meets Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, whom everyone seems to worship as if they’re heroes. Damian’s not sure if he believes that they're what everyone makes them out to be. He’ll accept that they’ve won a lot of battles, but so has Damian. He knows all too well what it’s like to be a child soldier. To see  _ too much _ . 

But he respects them. Not like he respects Father, or Richard, or Pennyworth, but it’s to a point where Damian knows that Jackson is far more dangerous than he acts. He’s a lot like Todd, really. Impulsive, idiotic, but deep down there’s more to him than meets the eye.

Chase is a genius. Damian knows it from the second he meets her. She’s a lot like Drake, but the best way to describe her would be if Drake and Brown had a kid. She’s extremely impulsive too (Damian’s noticed a pattern by the third day at Camp and finds out on the fourth day that most demigods have ADHD, which confirms his suspicions), but she’s a master of strategic thinking. After about three weeks at Camp, he’s also pretty sure she knows he’s Robin. 

Which makes no sense. He’s done a good job of hiding it. Unless Todd slipped and told her something—which is  _ very _ unlikely—she should have no inkling of  _ any _ of that. Damian was being careful. Right before the Goddess left, she’d warned him not the show off. She said that they’d get suspicious if they knew what he could do. He asked her why, and she said nothing. All she did was tell him to keep quiet about his past. To keep his head down. So he is. Or he’s trying to.

The first week he didn’t heed the warning. He walked into the fighting arena for his first lesson and showed everyone up—even Jackson, who was teaching the lesson—and then everyone got scared of him. Rumors started to spread. The campers wanted to know why billionaire Bruce Wayne’s youngest son was a master swordsman. It was a fair question. 

But Damian stopped after that. What was he supposed to do to explain himself? Say the truth about his mother’s side of the family? That’s out of the question. Tell people he’s Robin? Yeah, right. Father would  _ kill _ him for that.

When he trains now, it’s in secret. He convinces Jackson to train with him in one-on-one sessions, because Jackson doesn’t ask questions even though Damian knows he clearly wants to. Sometime during the third week, he gives Damian a key to the arena and tells him not to hurt the hellhound.

(Damian doesn’t plan on it. Mrs. O’Leary is a good dog. She reminds him of Titus.)

The fifth week starts. Damian hasn’t seen Todd since the week before last, and he’s getting tired of doing nothing but working in the arts & crafts center and visiting the horses in the stables. He’s itching to  _ do something.  _ He’s really starting to miss being Robin. Damian knows he’s going crazy, because by Friday morning, he’s ready to do  _ anything, _ if it means getting to beat someone up. He’ll even patrol with  _ Drake _ . 

A voice in his head says that maybe the feeling of needing nothing more than to beat the everloving shit out of someone is not a good thing. That voice sounds like Richard. The voice that sounds like his grandfather tells him to get over himself. Damian’s entirely too  _ bored _ to care either way. 

At dinner, he’s for some deranged reason absolutely  _ delighted _ to see that Todd’s back. They’ve only trained together once while Damian’s been here, and that’s the only time since he arrived that he hasn’t had to hold back. Todd can handle Damian’s skills and vice versa. It’s the only time he’s had real  _ fun  _ at this god-forsaken summer camp, and they’d been doing it in secret.

But he doesn’t expect much. Todd rarely talks to him here. He’s pretty sure they only trained together that night because Todd was working through some sort of mental issues that must have been related to their alter egos. Just because someone’s been resurrected doesn’t mean the trauma of death is gone, and all that. Damian understands a little too well. 

Todd doesn’t make eye contact with him. He dumps half his plate into the fire like everyone else, and heads straight over to the Poseidon table. Damian turns his attention back to his meal. Technically, campers aren’t allowed to change tables, so it’s not like Todd would come over anyway, but Chase and that one satyr  _ always _ sit at Jackson’s table as well. Todd could  _ technically _ get up and come over since the rules clearly don’t really matter, but Damian’s sure he’s happy where he is—from what Damian knows, Todd doesn’t laugh nearly this much at home unless he’s in hysterics, on Joker gas, or someone  _ horrible _ is getting what they truly deserve.

No,  _ Todd _ doesn’t laugh.  _ The Red Hood  _ laughs. Todd tends to flinch at laughter. Damian thinks Todd needs to get over his fear of clowns.

Damian watches the other campers follow Todd’s example as they scrape half of their plates into the fire. He doesn’t get up from his seat. If the gods are so insistent on sacrifices, they’ll have to settle for the countless lives Damian’s ended over the years. He’s no longer a killer; he’s not going to participate in something that symbolizes death and bowing down to a higher order.

He briefly wonders if the other campers even understand what they're doing. He highly doubts it. They probably weren’t raised knowing anything about the dark arts and messing with dangerous magic. Damian knows Todd wasn’t—at least, not as a  _ child _ —and  _ he _ still does it. But Todd’s also been in the Lazarus Pit, so he’s automatically mixed up with the dark arts and he probably doesn't even realize it. Damian stares at his plate. Maybe he should tell him.

The dining pavilion is particularly chatty today, and Damian’s so busy trying to ignore the annoyance that he doesn’t notice Todd is sitting at his table until the man has Damian’s half-eaten pizza in his hand.

“You gonna eat this, kid, or should I? I know it’s not _Alfred’s_ cooking, but c’mon, you gotta admit the food here _is_ pretty great.”  
“What?”  
“I’m joking around, Damian. Relax.” 

Todd puts down the pizza slice. He looks at Damian for a second. Damian can feel the stares of the other campers around them, staring at them. Suddenly the voices in the room get quieter, but they turn to the familiar whispers Damian hears every time he goes somewhere in public with his family. He knows people are trying to piece this together. They’re just starting to realize that oh, wait, this is  _ Damian Wayne _ , son of  _ Bruce Wayne _ . The billionaire. And he’s sitting at a table with  _ Jason Todd,  _ Bruce Wayne’s other, recently-revealed-to-be-not-as-dead-as-we-thought son. Of course eyes are on them. They’re famous.

Damian forgets that a lot. It’s not that weird for Jason to be talking to him here. It’s not suspicious. They’re not going to look at them and think maybe the two of them are vigilantes, or assassins, or glorified zombies, or anything. His identity isn’t as at risk as he keeps convincing himself it is.

Todd’s saying something. Damian didn’t hear it and therefore didn’t respond, and just as Damian’s piecing together that Todd’s annoyed, the water in his glass suddenly splashes up into his face. For a second, he’s confused, but he yells anyway because that’s just how he deals with things.

Todd’s laughing. It occurs to Damian, for the first time, that Todd is Jackson’s half-brother. He’s a son of Poseidon. Which means that Jason Todd has  _ powers _ .

Damian glares. “What do you want, Todd?”  
“Wanted to ask how you’re doing. How Camp’s treating you and all that. But something’s up. You’re acting weird.” 

Damian keeps glaring at him. Sometimes he forgets that Todd was trained by the world’s greatest detective, too. He’s so different from all the others. He’s so different now that if it weren’t for the suit in the cave and the files in the Batcomputer, Damian probably would have never realized Todd was once a Robin, too.

“How would _you_ know that? You don’t know anything about me.”  
“You kiddin’, Damian? Dickie-bird never shuts up about you. I’ve picked up some stuff. Besides, you always make the same faces as Bruce and right now you’re making the ‘I’m lonely and bored so I want to punch someone’ face.”  
“Father doesn’t _get _lonely. He surrounds himself with his so-called family too much for that to happen. It’s precisely the reason why I have to deal with the likes of you.”  
“Look, Damian, I—”

Todd doesn’t finish his sentence, because a conch shell blows somewhere in the distance. He’s got the biggest grin on his face. Damian doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Jason smile this genuinely before.

“What is it, Todd?” Damian asks, but Todd’s attention is elsewhere. He stands up. 

“I’ll tell you later, kid. It’s time for Capture the Flag.”  
“Isn’t that a game for children? I don’t play games, Todd.”  
“I seem to remember Stephanie telling me something about you two and a bouncy castle back when she was Batgirl—”  
“That never happened. _Fatgirl_ is _delusional_.”  
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Trust me, kid, you’re going to like this game.”

* * *

Damian  _ likes _ Capture the Flag.

He’s having so much  _ fun. _ It’s the closest he’s gotten to being Robin again, and he’s so caught up in the moment that he forgets he’s not supposed to show off until he’s inches away from stealing the flag right from under Jackson’s nose. He’s even able to avoid Chase, whom he’s pretty sure is invisible at the moment; he doesn’t know how that’s possible, but Damian sees leaves get crushed by what seems like nothing but air pushing them down. He’s not an idiot. He’s been trained to see things that aren’t there.

But he forgets that _Todd _is on the other team as well. 

Todd might not have the same  _ exact  _ training Damian had growing up, but he’s the only person here good enough to see another Bat hiding in the shadows.

“PERCY! HE’S BEHIND YOU!”

A lot of things happen in the next few seconds. Todd’s yell must’ve spooked Jackson somehow, because the teenager doesn’t just defend the  _ flag _ , he defends  _ himself _ . Jackson  _ reacts _ . And he reacts  _ fast _ . 

For a second Damian forgets about the flag. He forgets about the game. Jackson’s swinging a sword at him and Damian’s got just enough time to see the pure  _ panic _ in Jackson’s eyes before the gleaming bronze sword slices across his face.

Damian goes down hard. He can’t see anything. He vaguely hears Todd yelling, he hears a sword clattering to the ground and Jackson’s saying something. Hands are on his shoulders. He thinks he hears Chase calling for a medic. He forces his eyes open, but only one works. Only sort of. His vision is hazy and tinted red—he assumes it’s blood—and he sees Todd is there, holding him back and Damian realizes that despite whatever happened, he’s got his hands on his sword. He’s angry, he realizes. Todd’s talking to him. Damian doesn’t hear it. Damian doesn’t care.

He wrestles himself out of Todd’s grip and, though deep down he can hear Father’s voice in his head, telling him vengeance is  _ wrong _ , and he can hear Richard telling him to  _ forgive  _ and to  _ think before you act, Damian _ , but he ignores it. Damian can barely seen through his left eye, and his right won’t open at all. But he can see  _ Jackson _ . The boy isn’t even fighting back. He’s just  _ standing _ there. He looks like he’s  _ sorry _ . He’s saying it. He’s saying he didn’t mean it. 

Damian doesn’t  _ care.  _

<strike> _ Yes, he does. _ </strike>

_ Eye for an eye. Blood for blood. Revenge for what was taken from him.  _ It’s what he’s been taught since the day he was born. It’s his whole  _ being _ . He’s no longer thinking. He’s acting on instinct. The same instinct he’s been trying to train out of himself since the day he met his father. But he can’t help it. He can’t stop himself. He’s  _ literally _ seeing red and he reacts entirely on  _ impulse _ . He doesn’t  _ mean _ it.

Right before Damian can slice his sword across Jackson’s face, everything goes black.

* * *

Damian wakes up in the infirmary. Jackson’s there, talking to Todd. It’s strange. People always talk about how the Wayne kids all look similar, but seeing Todd standing next to his  _ actual _ half-brother makes Damian wonder what they’re thinking. They could almost be twins, right down to the streak of gray in the hair. The only difference is that Todd’s hair streak is a little lighter, and he’s much more muscular. Damian’s seen pictures. He knows Todd wasn’t like that before the Pit. Seeing Jackson is like a look at what Jason would’ve been if he never died.

“Todd?” Damian mutters. His head hurts. His  _ eye _ hurts. And he still can’t open his left one. Jackson practically jumps out of his skin at the sound. And then he’s apologizing. Unfortunately, Damian doesn’t have the energy to stop him.

“Damian, man, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about it, I just reacted—I just, I flashed back to when Arachne attacked us in Tartarus, a-and you were behind my  _ back _ , and I forgot about the  _ flag _ and I forgot about New Rome and t-the  _ river _ , and I-I assumed you were trying to go for—

Damian tunes out Jackson’s rambles and forces himself to sit up. He glances at Todd, who’s being uncharacteristically quiet in the background. He’s sure Todd was the one to knock him out; no one else could’ve been fast enough—_skilled_ _enough_—to stop him without getting _gutted_. He wonders if Todd explained things. He wonders how many people _saw_ him.

“Why—is my eyesight gone? I can’t open my left eye.” Damian doesn’t make eye contact with Jackson. He looks at Todd instead. 

His (not) brother shrugs. “Will—the camp doctor, he’s an Apollo kid—says your sight will be back soon. Maybe a few weeks and you’ll be fine. Might have a bit of a scar, though. He used some pretty strong magic to heal you, so… it could’ve been worse.” 

Damian  _ knows _ it could've been worse. The scar on his chest proves it. 

“It’s weird, you know. I’ve met maybe two demigod children of Nemesis who’ve lost—or almost lost—an eye now. I’m starting to think it might be a rite of passage or something.”

Damian looks at Jackson. He speaks in a joking manner, but he’s clearly still very upset.

“Stop pouting, you moron. I’m not _actually _mad at you. I only attacked you because—”   
“You’re the son of the goddess of Revenge, Damian. It’s in your blood to want to get back at me, no matter what the situation was. I’m just sorry I swung without thinking. I could’ve seriously hurt you, Damian. And I did—I almost blinded you. Even if it’s temporary, you have every right to be mad.”  
“And if Todd wasn’t there, I would’ve killed you without hesitation, so we’re even.”

Damian says it as a joke, since as far as Jackson knows, he isn’t serious. 

“I know. Jason told me everything a while ago. That’s why I’m so sorry.”

Damian freezes. 

“What? But—he told you  _ everything _ ?” He looks at his brother with wide eyes.

Wide  _ eye _ . His left eye is still stuck shut and covered in bandages.

“Percy’s  _ family _ , Damian. He knows about, you know…” Todd trailed off and made finger guns to emphasize his point.

“...Did you tell Chase too? I’m pretty sure she knows I’m Robin.”

Todd glances over at Jackson, who looks confused. As if he’s shocked at the idea of his girlfriend knowing about all this.

“Annabeth’s known about  _ me  _ since I died. She had a dream about it. I don’t know what she knows about you, unless  _ someone _ snitched.” 

And that’s clearly all Todd wants to say on the matter, ending with a firm look at Jackson, who is looking just a  _ bit _ guilty. But he’s not too worried about the secret getting out; he’s sure Chase must’ve just tricked him into confirming her thoughts. Jackson wouldn't have told anyone else. Damian sits back against his pillow with a huff. Then something clicks. He looks over at Jackson again.

“Is  _ that _ why you let me train with you alone? Because you knew  _ why _ I was so skilled?” 

Jackson smiles a bit. 

“Yeah. I, uh, I know what it’s like to be the new guy who no one likes or trusts, and I figured… no one should have to go through that. And I know you guys are real strict about your secret identities. I kind of figured that the ‘assassin baby Robin’—Jay’s words, not mine, I swear—would be a little too good for the beginner’s class. Then I saw you with them, and I knew I was right.”  
“And _I _told him you like dogs.”  
“Right, that too. Mrs. O’Leary’s lives in the arena, but she’s not allowed out during lessons ‘cause a simple slip could really hurt her. I don’t let many people train alone in there, Damian, and especially not with my dog.”  
“Your dog is a _hellhound_, Jackson. A bloodthirsty _monster_. You do realize that, correct?” 

Todd has the audacity to laugh. 

“You _really_ shouldn’t be talking, Brat Wonder.”   
“Says the _actual crime lord_. At least I’m _reformed_.”

Percy coughs. “Mostly.”

“ _ Mostly _ reformed.”

Jackson and Todd both start laughing at that, and Damian realizes with a shock that he’s actually starting to truly  _ like _ it here.

* * *

Todd leaves that night, but he comes back two weeks later. He walks into the fighting arena while Damian’s slicing through training dummies as if his life depends on it.

“Hey, kid, c’mere.” Todd calls, and Damian doesn’t know why he listens, but he does.  
“So I _see_ you’re feeling better.”  
“If not for the laws of this land I would’ve slaughtered you years ago, Todd.”  
“That’s sweet, Damian. I’ll make sure to tell Bruce you’re doing good here next time I see him.”

Damian scoffs at that. He knows perfectly well that Todd won’t tell Father  _ anything _ , because that would mean admitting to the man that he’s not fully human, and that’s seemingly out of the question. Damian doesn’t really get  _ why _ , but he doesn’t really care. 

“How’re you feeling, really?”

Damian shrugs. 

“Solace allowed me to remove the bandages a few days ago, but it is still painful to open it. He’s given me the option to wear an eyepatch or sunglasses. I picked sunglasses. They’re less tacky. And they don’t make me look like that _bastard_ Slade Wilson.”   
“Good choice. Though I think most _normal _kids would’ve gone for the eyepatch and called themselves a pirate.”   
“I’m not a_ kid_, Todd.”   
“And you’re definitely not _normal _either.”

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Why are you here, Todd? I thought you said you had to go help Harper with something.”  
“I did that, Damian. And then I did some other stuff in Gotham. Now, I dunno, I’m kind of thinking I’m gonna take a break from the vigilante life for a while. Might spend some time with my favorite little brother at my favorite place in the world.”  
“Riiiiiight. Because none of that was complete _bullshit_. Who’d you assassinate this time?”  
“Absolutely no one! And I didn’t blow up a building either. And I’m definitely _not_ only hiding out here while the FBI try to track down the Red Hood just to find out the trail takes them to an old strawberry farm on the shore of Long Island. A total dead-end.”  
“You’re _ridiculous_, Todd.”  
“Yeah, whatever. Hey, did you know I can breathe underwater?”

Damian follows his brother out of the arena. He thinks maybe, just  _ maybe _ , staying here for the rest of the summer might not be  _ so _ bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously though i havent decided yet if talia knew about jason. but he survives a fall from a cliff into a river after he's brought back and i think maybe demigod jason's got a better reasoning why that works. actually jason survives long falls into water a LOT (i'm pretty sure he does it in UTRH as well iirc) and i can't stop thinking about percy and the st louis arch. anyway yes that's all i have to say hope you nerds enjoyed this i'm tired bYE
> 
> (and thanks desty for editing i love youuuuu)
> 
> ps if you wanna ramble about this au with me, hmu on tumblr @damthosefandoms bc my ask box is always open to questions about this!!! seriously!!! You’ll make my day if you let me ramble about it!!!!!!
> 
> If you guys get confused on when everything takes place—and I have too, so it’s alright—I made a timeline for the AU, and there’s gonna be a google doc linked at the end of each fic (right here in the End Notes) from now on that’ll specify exactly when each fic takes place, along with some other details I might not have included in the fics, and also it shows when the PJO books happen relative to the AU. It’s very helpful, so feel free to check it out! I’ll be adding stuff from time to time/after I post new fics, so yeah. It’s helpful.
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RIksZZsTP2Xt0YaMG8F0hlMXOi7SMLNpx2O8Onl2QnY/edit?usp=sharing


	4. what is it with monsters in new jersey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian gets attacked on patrol again, and realizes he’s out of options. Jason just wanted to take a nap, but now he has to deal with Damian’s injury (and he gives out some advice while he’s at it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where did this come from? idk. why didn’t I post it a week ago when I wrote it? idk. probably would’ve posted it on Wednesday but then like, Everything Happened. It’s not even as good as I want it to be but it’s good enough because I forgot how to write at some point and just ended it idk. 
> 
> ANYWAY WASH YOUR HANDS AND STAY SAFE AND HEALTHY MY FRIENDS!! Hopefully reading this can help you take your mind off things for a while. <3
> 
> ps the chapter title is a joke bc “we’re lost in the woods, somewhere in New Jersey and were never gonna make it to LA” and I love the tlt musical more than anything and I feel like demigods and New Jersey just don’t mix and the titans used to have their headquarters there during the second Titan war and Medusa was there in TLT (the titan’s base camp was literally at her home) and also Gotham is in New Jersey, so, yeah. that’s that.
> 
> ps I’m always taking asks about this on my tumblr or Twitter (both are @damthosefandoms, same as here) if you wanna know anything special about this au!! also dm me if you don’t wanna send an ask bc I’m ALWAYS up for talking about this au!!! <33333

Damian was slow, he missed his target, and now his back hurts, because that  _ creature  _ scratched him, and he hates that he doesn’t even know how to kill it because he’s supposed to be able to—he learned how to deal a lethal blow to someone before he learned how to walk, and yet he can’t fight a goddamn  _ monster  _ without getting injured? Something that he’s actually  _ allowed  _ to kill? 

He keeps holding back, he knows, because he’s not _Damian _but _Robin _right now. When he’s wearing these colors, he _can’t_ kill, and even if he _wasn’t _wearing them, he’s come so far these past few years and he refuses to just give up—he’s worked so, so, _so _hard to redeem himself. He _can’t _go back to his old ways. He _won’t. _

The monster roars. Damian’s eyes flash between it and Batman, who is across the street talking to Commissioner Gordon on the rooftop of the GCPD building. Neither of them seem to notice the commotion in the alleyway below. They wouldn’t see anything even if they tried.

(They might see  _ something.  _ They might see Damian killing a person instead of defending himself against a bloodthirsty monster. Damian knows enough about the Mist to know it doesn’t have his best interests in mind.)

He  _ especially  _ doesn’t want to kill this creature, because while he’s not sure what it is  _ exactly, _ he can tell it must be some sort of animal. But then it lunges again and Damian forces himself to pull his sword—the special katana that Todd and Jackson’s cyclops brother had created, infused with both celestial bronze  _ and  _ steel, along with a few other magical metals—and he gets in a lucky strike as the creature rakes its claws across his cheek.

It  _ hurts. _

But now the monster has turned to dust. It’s nothing but a memory, lost in the wind. Those scratches and the little flecks of gold scattered on Damian’s clothes are the only remains of the creature.

Damian hears Batman land on the fire escape above him. If he were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have heard it (certain aliens excluded because  _ super-hearing is cheating, Jon),  _ but Damian’s extensive training throughout his lifetime has left him with incredibly strong senses,  _ especially  _ his hearing and sight. It’s why Father and Richard allowed him to wear a hood as Robin; the same goes for Cassandra. 

(Spoiler’s costume design doesn’t count, because if it were up to Batman, she wouldn’t have had a hood to begin with. The others need to have their peripheral vision, because they aren’t exactly less skilled (not that Damian will admit that), but they just don’t have that special training that Damian and Cassandra went through as children.  _ They’re lucky.)  _

He pulls his hood up quickly, and lets his cape fall over his shoulders, covering the tear in the back of his costume. No need to show Father the damage. Damian would just have to explain how it happened, and he’s not entirely convinced that his Father would be able to understand. The Mist, as Damian has learned, is a very powerful thing. He hides the cuts behind his hood and his cape. 

“Are you alright, Robin?” Batman asks from behind him, and Damian doesn’t turn around—his back  _ stings,  _ and now so does his cheek—but he gets out a much too-quick, “I’m fine, Fa—Batman,” and they head back to the Batmobile together.

Damian’s not stupid, and he knows his father isn’t either. He knows he’s being watched, carefully, and that his father probably knows he’s hiding injuries again, and he’s  _ definitely  _ going to get caught and lectured again.

In his defense, Damian hasn’t actually hidden an injury from his family in at  _ least  _ five months. Most of which was spent at Camp Half-Blood, so it doesn’t really count, but still. He’s been back in Gotham for a month and a half now and he hasn’t hidden an injury once, and they should be  _ happy  _ about that.

And it’s not like he’s hiding it for the same reasons as usual. This isn’t a matter of looking weak or fear of not being good enough (Damian’s been _working _on that). It’s more a matter of “Batman still doesn’t know that demigods get attacked by monsters every so often and _I’m not telling him_ _because he’ll bench me if he finds out.”_

(That and he’s been healing himself. You can’t hide injuries if you don’t have them, right?)

They reach the Batmobile, and Damian freezes. If he goes home now, there’s no  _ way  _ he’ll be able to get back to his room without being caught—that monster scratched his cheek, and it’ll be too difficult to hide that mark stealthily. And, Damian realizes with a jolt, it still hasn’t stopped bleeding, and his back probably hasn’t either—he’s going to end up getting blood all over the upholstery of the Batmobile and if all else fails, someone will undoubtedly notice that.

Batman asks him if he’s going to get in the car, and Damian blinks up at him. He’s never been so grateful for the mask.

“I… I have to go see Red Hood. I just remembered.” A lie, but not entirely untrue. Also not something Batman will take seriously on its own. Why would  _ Damian _ need to go see  _ Jason? _

Really, why? Damian can’t think of any—hmm.

“What?” Batman sounds  _ confused,  _ and Damian already knew he sounded crazy, but  _ wow.  _ Batman is  _ never  _ confused.

“During patrol last week, he helped me remove a litter of kittens from an abusive home. I knew you wouldn’t let me keep them, and he promised me that he’d find good homes for them. I told him I’d be back in a week to make sure he followed up on his promise.”

It’s not the worst lie he’s ever come up with. And his father  _ will _ believe it—even if there are some parts of the story that don’t make sense.

(For example: logically, if you’re saving cats in Gotham, you go straight to Catwoman if you want to find them good homes. Damian _lives _with Selina Kyle now. Bruce knows she hasn’t mentioned him finding any cats.)

Batman sighs and tells him to stay at Jason’s overnight if he can, because it’s a long trek back to the Manor and he probably assumes Damian’s going to want to stay and play with the kittens anyway. 

There aren’t any actual kittens, but Damian promises to stay safe, and watches as his father drives off. He pulls his cape tighter around him, and winces as the hood brushes against his cheek. It’s still bleeding.

He fires his grapple at the nearest rooftop and heads to Jason’s apartment. 

* * *

When he climbs in the window, Jason is fast asleep on the couch with a book in one hand and a gun in the other. 

(Damian notes that the safety is on, thankfully. He doesn’t need to get  _ shot  _ tonight.)

It must not have been a patrol night for the Red Hood, then—Jason wouldn’t be home by now if it was. Or maybe he’s just taking a break? Despite the events of the last few months, Damian doesn’t know the man well enough to say for sure.

(He doesn’t know enough about Jason’s  _ vigilante  _ life, that is. He thinks he might have a handle on the other stuff.)

Either way, he purposefully slams the window shut behind him, and holds his hands up to show he’s (more or less) unarmed.

Jason jumps, suddenly wide awake, and tries to fire the gun but in the midst of his confusion at the fact that the safety is still on, he seems to piece together that it’s  _ Damian  _ who broke into his apartment and woke him up instead of someone who’s  _ actively _ trying to end his life.

“What the Hades are  _ you  _ doing here?” he snaps, tossing the useless gun onto the coffee table. He drops back onto the couch and tries to find his page in his book. 

Damian shrugs and immediately regrets it, because the claw marks on his back start to sting at the movement, and he flinches. Jason doesn’t see that because he’s too busy trying to find something to use as a bookmark. He settles on an old receipt that was lying around on the coffee table.

Damian doesn’t answer, but instead calls him out on his choice of words. “‘What the Hades?’ Since when do you say stuff like that outside of camp?”

“Since my least favorite brother decided to ruin my fun and I can get away with it here now.”

“Fair enough.”

“So what  _ are  _ you doing—is that monster dust?” Jason turns to look at him as he speaks, and notices the flecks of gold covering Damian’s Robin suit. Damian nods, pulling back his hood, revealing the nasty scratches on the side of his face. The bleeding has slowed down, thank god, but it’s still painful and using the muscles in his face doesn’t help.

“There was an  _ incident _ tonight. I need your help. You have that—whatever it’s called, the food of the gods, correct?”

“Nectar and Ambrosia,” Jason corrects him. “And yeah, somewhere around here. Didn’t you take some home from camp with you? They give you enough on your way out to keep you alive until June.” 

He motions for Damian to sit on the couch and heads into the apartment’s pathetic excuse for a kitchen. Jason digs around in the cabinets for a minute and fishes out a baggie of what looks to be brownies, but they both know better. 

“I’ve used up all of what I put in my utility belt for emergencies,” Damian says as Jason pulls out a first aid kit from under the sink. “I had the other half of my supply locked away in my room at home for safekeeping, but I can’t exactly get to it there at the moment.”

(Well, it’s not exactly a first aid kit. For  _ their  _ family, first aid kits are a lot more than the regular bandaids and ice packs.) 

Jason sits down on the couch next to him and checks out the scratch marks on his cheek. 

“ _ Half your supply? _ It’s barely October, Damian, you shouldn’t be using that much. It’s dangerous— _ seriously _ dangerous. And you know I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t  _ mean _ it. Too much of this stuff can kill you.” Jason wipes the blood off his face with a towel.

“I  _ am  _ being careful!” Damian pushes the rage down. Arguing with Jason is  _ not  _ in his best interest right now. “It’s just—I’m Robin.”

“And I’m assuming  _ Robin _ didn’t tell  _ Batman _ about the magical healing food when he told him everything else about camp?” Jason says, raising an eyebrow at him. “You know, I promised Dick I’d tell someone if I found out you were hiding injuries, and—”

_ “Do not tell Richard anything!  _ Todd, it’s not—”

“It  _ sounds  _ like you’re using some potentially dangerous methods to make yourself seem invincible.”

Damian glares down at the ground. “Like you can talk. Lazarus Pits don't make you  _ immortal,  _ Todd.”

“Someone should tell your grandfather that.” 

“I—you know what I meant!” 

Jason laughs. “Yeah, I did. And  _ I’m _ being  _ careful.  _ Despite what you may think, I  _ don’t  _ want to die again. Speaking of, you hurt anywhere else? 

Damian nods. “It… it got me across the back, too.” 

Jason motions for him to pull off his shirt, and he does. (They both pointedly ignore the giant scar on his chest where he had been stabbed a few years earlier. Death is an old friend of both of theirs.) 

“Shit, kid. What  _ was  _ this thing? It really did a number on you.” 

“Not sure. I—I don’t know Greek monsters that well. It looked like a dog?”

“Like a big black mastiff?”

“Exactly!”

“Probably a hellhound, then. They’re easy to kill, once you get past the puppy dog eyes and remember they’re soulless monsters that want to eat your face off.”

Damian doesn’t respond. Jason’s stitching up his back, now, and he doesn’t even so much as blink when he feels the needle go in. He took the cut, he can take the stitch. (And he’s done this so many times he can barely feel it anyway.)

It’s quiet for a few minutes. 

“I used to hide my injuries from demigod stuff when I was Robin, too.” Jason mutters. 

Damian turns to look at him. “What?”

“Like, all the injuries I’d get as Robin? Sure, Bruce can know about those. I’d let him or Alfie stitch me up back home, and whatever. But I got chased down by monsters a lot during patrol too.”

Jason finishes stitching him up, and then breaks off a piece of the Ambrosia for Damian to eat. “Eat this. The cuts will be gone by morning—but  _ no more _ after this. Not for at least two weeks.” Jason places a hand on his forehead, then removes it. “You run warm normally, right? So it’s probably not noticeable to them, but I think you might have a bit of a fever, and I don’t want you spontaneously combusting. Bruce will blame  _ me,  _ and I don’t really want to piss off Batman more than I already have recently.”

Damian eats the Ambrosia—it tastes like Alfred’s cookies, not a surprise—and immediately starts to feel a bit better. And he knows Jason is right—he’s had a low-grade fever for almost two weeks straight. He never actually pieced together  _ why  _ until just now.

Jason grabs some gauze to wrap around what’s left of his injury as he continues his story.

“Anyway, I think what happened was that at some point, I got it in my head that like, I have a healing factor, right? Like, water heals me. So when I was Robin, I just carried water around everywhere I went. Bruce thought I was just trying to stay hydrated, but in reality it was like a backup in case anything went wrong.”

“Monsters.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to like, brag or anything, but I probably had it a lot worse back then than you ever will. Big Three kids tend to attract a lot more monsters—and more dangerous ones at that. Your godly parent is a minor goddess, so you’ll probably have it a little easier.”

Jason gets up to put away the medical supplies, but continues his story. 

“There were a lot of close calls. He used to get so confused. Especially when we fought bad guys down at the docks—I’m the only Robin who never came close to drowning. I never got pneumonia from falling into ice cold water. Bruce thought it was so weird that I could hold my breath longer than him; I smoked as a kid, and logically it shouldn’t have been possible for my lungs to work that well.

“‘Course, he had some friends put up magical wards around the manor, all the Wayne buildings in Gotham, and at Gotham Academy anyway, ‘cause Bruce is a paranoid freak and didn’t want some evil magic users targeting his kids. I only ever actually got attacked while out as Robin. But somehow I kept it all from him.

“I guess it’s kind of hypocritical of me to tell you not to hide injuries, since it’s all I ever did, but… the way  _ I _ healed myself was never  _ dangerous.  _ Not that my time as Robin should ever be considered a  _ good  _ example, anyway.” Jason laughs, and he’s got a faraway look in his eyes. 

Damian narrows his own eyes at his brother. Something is odd about the way Jason’s talking. It’s almost as if… 

“Todd?”

“What?”

“It’s just—the way you’re talking about this. Do the—” Jason gets up, and Damian shifts in his seat. He’ll probably be sleeping on Jason’s couch anyway, so he might as well get comfortable. “Do the monsters not come after you anymore?”

“…No.” Jason turns so Damian couldn’t see his face. “I haven’t been attacked since before I died.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Damian. I wish I did.” 

Jason grabs a blanket from the closet and tosses it over to Damian. “Just go to sleep, kid. I would say sweet dreams, but… you know how it is.”

Damian lays down and doesn’t look back at his brother. “You too, Jason. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Damian.” Jason turns the light off, and Damian hears his bedroom door shut behind him.

(He kind of does wish there  _ were  _ kittens here. They’d probably both feel a lot less lonely, then.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys get confused on when everything takes place—and I have too, so it’s alright—I made a timeline for the AU, and there’s gonna be a google doc linked at the end of each fic (in the End Notes) from now on that’ll specify exactly when each fic takes place, along with some other details I might not have included in the fics, and also it shows when the PJO books happen relative to the AU. It’s very helpful, so feel free to check it out! I’ll be adding stuff from time to time/after I post new fics, so yeah. It’s helpful.
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RIksZZsTP2Xt0YaMG8F0hlMXOi7SMLNpx2O8Onl2QnY/edit?usp=sharing

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys get confused on when everything takes place—and I have too, so it’s alright—I made a timeline for the AU, and there’s gonna be a google doc linked at the end of each fic (right here in the End Notes) from now on that’ll specify exactly when each fic takes place, along with some other details I might not have included in the fics, and also it shows when the PJO books happen relative to the AU. It’s very helpful, so feel free to check it out! I’ll be adding stuff from time to time/after I post new fics, so yeah. It’s helpful.
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RIksZZsTP2Xt0YaMG8F0hlMXOi7SMLNpx2O8Onl2QnY/edit?usp=sharing


End file.
